The Belle Assemblée, or Bell's Court and Fashionable Magazine

This is a very bold fiction; and, did not the author, in a short Preface, make
a kind of apology, we should almost pronounce it to be impious. We hope,
however, the writer had the moral in view which we are desirous of drawing from it,
that the presumptive works of man must be frightful, vile, and horrible;
ending only in discomfort and misery to himself.

But will all our readers understand this? Should not an author, who has a moral end
in view, point out rather that application which may be more generally understood?
We recommend, however, to our fair readers, who may peruse a work which, from its
originality, excellence of language, and peculiar interest, is likely to be very
popular, to draw from it that meaning which we have cited above.

The story of Frankenstein is told in a letter from a Captain Walton to his
sister, Mrs. Saville, residing in England. Walton is almost as much of an enthusiast
as the wretched Frankenstein, whom, as the Captain is in search of finding the north
west passage, and penetrating as far as possible to the extremities of the pole, he
meets, engaged in the pursuit of the demon-being of his own creation: Walton rescues
Frankenstein from the imminent danger of losing his life in this pursuit, amongst
the floating flakes of ice; and after this Prometheus recovers, in part, his bodily
strength, and relates his history to Walton.

Frankenstein is a Genevese; (these people are not naturally romantic) but
Frankenstein's mind has been early warped by a perusal of those authors who deal in
the marvellous. His father is a respectable Syndic, and has taken under his
protection a niece, born in Italy. In due time, Frankenstein and his fair cousin
become lovers, and their union is sanctioned by his father. He has also the
blessings of a sincere friend, Henry Clerval, of a stronger mind than the
Prometheus, who is absorbed in the study of natural philosophy, which he declares as
"the genius that regulated his fate."—When he becomes a student at the
University of Ingoldstadt, he bewails, as his first misfortune, the death of his
mother; and when his grief has begun to subside, he devotes himself entirely to
chemistry and his favourite science: the structure of the human frame particularly
excites his attention, and, indeed, every animal endowed with life: he then proceeds
to examine the cause of life and death—(how vain)—and finds
himself capable (we use the writer's own words) "of bestowing animation on lifeless
matter!!!"

This reminds us of the famous philosopher who declared, that, give him but matter
enough, and he could create a world! Why, then, could he not form one in miniature,
about the size of an egg or a walnut?

To return to Frankenstein; he had no longer any doubt but what he could create a
perfect man! But his workshop, and the process he was compelled to observe,
disgusted him; for he tells Walton, that "the dissecting-room, and the
slaughter-house, furnished him with materials." On a dark night of November he
completes his work, and the eye of the creature opens; whom, in order to make
superior to his species, he has formed eight feet high! He is soon after surprised
by a visit from his friend Clerval; and trembles at the idea of his seeing the
monster he has created: he steals up softly to his apartment, and finds that the
demon has fled.

After a fit of illness, which causes a cessation of his studies, he is afflicted, on
his return to them, by a letter from his father, acquainting him that his little
brother William is murdered; the picture he wore round his neck being found in the
pocket of an interesting young girl, the attendant on Elizabeth, Frankenstein's
cousin, she is accused, and suffers innocently. After visiting the parental roof, as
the unfortunate Prometheus is wandering among the Alps, he beholds the frightful
being he has formed, and he feels convinced in his own mind that he is the murderer
of his brother.—This being seems, indeed, to have a supernatural power of
following his maker wherever he goes, and he soon after meets with him near Mont
Blanc. He here relates to Frankenstein how he has supported his miserable existence;
but he feels the charm, and the imperious want of society, by having beheld, in a
cottage, an old peasant and his daughter, with a young man; they are indigent, but,
in comparison with his forlorn state, most happy. Delighted with the picture of
social life and its affections, he seeks to contribute to their wants; piles wood
before their cottage, when they want fuel, and other offices unperceived: by
listening, he gains speech, and understands the meaning of different words. The
arrival of an Arabian lady serves to complete the savage's education: he hears the
young man read to her, and obtains a slight knowledge of history. This part of the
work is rather prolix and unnatural; the monster learns to read, and is delighted
with Paradise Lost, Plutarch's Lives, and The Sorrows of
Werter!

The demon then confesses himself the murderer of Frankenstein's brother; and,
moreover, declares his intention of immolating the rest of his family, if he does
not create a female like himself, with whom he may retire to undiscovered wilds, and
molest mankind no more. Frankenstein, at first, positively refuses, but at length
consents.

After pausing some time in travelling, Frankenstein and Clerval visit Scotland; and
the former retires from the society of his friend, to undertake, in the solitude of
the Orkney Islands, the dreadful task assigned him. When he has half finished the
wretched work, he reflects that, perhaps, he is bringing a curse on future
generations, and he tears the thing to pieces on which he is engaged. The monster
presents himself, and after some severe upbraidings, he tells him he will be with
him on his wedding night.

The fragments of a human being lying before him, urge Frankenstein to seek his safety
by flight; he packs them in a basket, sails from the Orkneys, and sinks them when he
has attained the midst of the sea: he next arrives at a good harbour, where he is
taken up for murder; and for the murder, too, of Clerval, his friend, whose mangled
body is presented before him: this deprives him of reason; and in a gaol, loaded
with irons, like a malefactor, he suffers all the agonies of the mind, accompanied
with frenzied fever. He is, however, at length, honourably acquitted, and
accompanies his father, who comes for him, back to Geneva, where preparations take
place for his wedding; for which, when the day is arrived, Elizabeth is found dead,
after coming from the sacred ceremony, and lying across her bridal bed. He now makes
a solemn vow to find out the fiend of his creation, and to destroy him, though the
work of his own hands. He traverses wild and barbarous countries; where, in some
places, he beholds inscriptions on the rocks and trees, as, "My reign is not yet
over"—"You live, and my power is complete," &c. &c. By perseverance,
Frankenstein, at length, meets with him, where Captain Walton first discovers him;
and whom Frankenstein, after bringing his narrative to a close, intreats to avenge
his cause by killing the monster, should he die. He expires soon after; and this
wonderful work of man comes in at the cabin-window of Captain
Walton's ship, breathes a soliloquy over the coffin of his creator, and then plunges
into the icy waves, the same way as he entered.

This work, which we repeat, has, as well as originality, extreme interest to
recommend it, and an easy, yet energetic style, is inscribed to Mr. Godwin; who,
however he once embraced novel systems, is, we are credibly informed, happily
converted to what he once styled ancient prejudices.

We are sorry our limits will not allow us a more copious review of
Frankenstein. The few following extracts will serve to shew the
excellence of its style and language:—

ENTHUSIASM OF FRANKENSTEIN IN HIS WORK OF FORMING MAN.

"Life and death appeared to me ideal bounds, which I should first
break through, and pour a torrent of light into our dark world. A new species would
bless me as its creator and source; many happy and excellent natures would owe their
being to me. No father could claim the gratitude of his child so completely as I
should deserve theirs. Pursuing these reflections, I thought, that if I could bestow
animation upon lifeless matter, I might in process of time (although I now found it
impossible) renew life where death had apparently devoted the body to
corruption."

DESCRIPTION OF FRANKENSTEIN'S MAN WHEN FIRST ENDOWED WITH LIFE.

"It was on a dreary night of November, that I beheld the
accomplishment of my toils. With an anxiety almost amounting to agony, I collected
the instruments of life around me, that I might infuse a spark of being into the
lifeless thing that lay at my feet. It was already one in the morning; the rain
pattered dismally against the panes, and my candle was nearly burnt out, when, by
the glimmer of the half-extinguished light, I saw the dull yellow eye of the
creature open; it breathed hard, and a convulsive motion agitated its limbs.

How can I describe my emotions at this catastrophe, or how delineate the wretch whom
with such infinite pains and care I had endeavoured to form? His limbs were in
proportion, and I had selected his features as beautiful. Beautiful!—Great
God! His yellow skin scarcely covered the work of muscles and arteries beneath; his
hair was of a lustrous black, and flowing; his teeth of a pearly whiteness; but
these luxuriances only formed a more horrid contrast with his watery eyes, that
seemed almost of the same colour as the dun white sockets in which they were set,
his shrivelled complexion, and straight black lips."

HIS REPENTANCE AT HAVING FORMED HIM.

"I considered the being whom I had cast among mankind, and endowed
with the will and power to effect purposes of horror, such as the deed which he had
now done, nearly in the light of my own vampire, my own spirit let loose from the
grave, and forced to destroy all that was dear to me."

ARGUMENTS HELD OUT BY THE MONSTER.

"All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am
miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy
creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one
of us. You purpose to kill me. How dare you sport thus with life? Do your duty
towards me, and I will do mine towards you and the rest of mankind. If you will
comply with my conditions, I will leave them and you at peace; but if you refuse, I
will glut the maw of death, until it be satiated with the blood of your remaining
friends.

"God, in pity, made man beautiful and alluring, after his own image; but my form is a
filthy type of yours, more horrid from its very resemblance. Satan had his
companions, fellow-devils, to admire and encourage him; but I am solitary and
detested."

FRANKENSTEIN'S AGONY ON THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH.

"Great God! why did I not then expire?—Why am I here to
relate the destruction of the best hope, and the purest creature of earth. She was
there, lifeless and inanimate, thrown across the bed, her head hanging down, and her
pale and distorted features half covered by her hair. Every where I turn I see the
same figure—her bloodless arms and relaxed form flung by the murderer on its
bridal bier. Could I behold this and live? Alas! life is obstinate, and clings
closest where it is most hated. For a moment only did I lose recollection; I
fainted."

THE MONSTER'S REFLECTIONS OVER THE DEAD BODY OF FRANKENSTEIN.

"'That is also my victim!' he exclaimed; 'in his murder my crimes
are consummated; the miserable series of my being is wound to its close! Oh,
Frankenstein! generous and self-devoted being! what does it avail that I now ask
thee to pardon me? I, who irretrievably destroyed thee by destroying all thou
lovedst.—Alas! he is cold; he may not answer me.'"